The Chase, The Hunt
by silvertv
Summary: He's running, it's all he can do, because if he stops, he's dead. OneShot.


Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

He was running. He was a blur that streaked its way through the eerily-lit forest, disturbing the quiet with thudding footsteps and gasping breaths. All the evidence left from his mad dash was the mad hiss of disturbed plants.

And blood.

It left an easy an easy enough trail to follow. Despite his best efforts, it still flowed unstopped through his tightly clenched fingers. He knew he needed to stop and treat his wound, or there would be a very real possibility that he would die.

But he pushed on, knowing that missing a single step, stopping for a single second, would guarantee his demise.

Because he was being chased. He was the prey, the rabbit that runs and flees from the dark shape of the hawk overheard, looking for a place to hide from its murderous gaze.

But his chaser was no bird, no animal, not even of this world. This predator would not tire, would not eat, would not get distracted, and would not stop. There was no hiding from its eyes and nose, no chance of defeating it. Fleeing was at best a stall, but that was all he had, a stall.

He surged through an icy river, ignoring the noise that he made; it did not matter any more. The water was cool as it ran down his legs, and he longed to stop and sate his thirst, his parched throat and swollen tongue screaming in protest at their current state.

But he pushed on. He ignored his thirst, as he ignored his burning lungs and aching legs and the blood trickling down his chest.

But the one thing he could not ignore was the Beast bearing down on him. The Beast made no sound, the wind brought no scent, and the darkness revealed no shape, but he knew that it approached. He knew with every fiber of his being that it was getting closer, and worse yet, he knew that it knew it was getting closer. He could sense its excitement, just as it could sense his fear.

Back into trees, trees packed closer and closer together, intertwined with vines and ivy and thorny bushes. He desperately pushed through losing precious seconds, for the Beast would move through all terrain unfettered, pass all obstacles without problem or hesitation. For nothing, _nothing_ could stand between it and its prey.

He broke out of the trees onto a wide plain, the moon casting its shadowy gloom over all the area, revealing no safe haven.

A massive splash of water behind him made his gut go heavy. The Beast was close, so very close. And it wanted him to know how close it was, it was toying with him now.

He tried to make his legs pump faster, but they only seemed to be running on the spot. The pain throughout his body was now rising and falling through him like a wave, no longer able to be ignored.

How easy it would be to stop there and then. To let the end come, no more fear, no more pain, no more fleeing. But he knew that it wouldn't work like that, he knew that when the moment came, he would fight tooth and nail to get away again.

So he ran, and he ran and he fell to the ground exhausted, only to get up and run again. He didn't know which way he was going, nor did he care. The forest had long since been left behind, and now there was nothing else in the world, nothing but him and the Beast running across the open plain, the moon in quiet observance far above.

The chase was nearly over; he could feel it in his bones. He was weak, and tired, so very, very tired. He had no idea how long he'd been out on the plain, and the Beast was rapidly closing the distance between them. He didn't even have the strength to lift his head and see where he was, where he was heading. All his attention, all his focus was on his legs and feet, one in front of the other. The rhythm, that was all he had, a rhythm that if broken, he wasn't sure he could start again. The blood had dried, lumps of it rubbing together, chafing against his wounds. But there was no pain. He could feel his consciousness retreating inside of him; his body shutting itself down, even as he kept running.

_Whisper._

A new noise; a break in the rhythm. His candle of life stops its dimming to flare up slightly at this new piece of information.

He forces open his eyes, to see that the ground beneath him has changed, the hard-packed earth has changed into rock.

He is heading somewhere now, but he doesn't know where. He tries to lift his head, but it's so heavy, so sore, and he's exhausted, spent. He can feel the Beast getting closer and closer. Its breath reaches his ears, similar to his own panting, except that its heavy breathing stems from excitement, anticipation, desire.

Light begins to work its way over the plain, the moon retreating down the horizon. A supreme effort, and his head lolls back, giving him a glimpse of where he is, of what is ahead.

He sees that the land he's running on is narrowing, tapering off to a point. Each side of him is a blank void, an area full of nothing but white and emptiness. He sees that the point leads off into this, into a precise area of it.

Without understanding why, his speed picks up. His legs are pumping strongly again. This is it, the final dash. He can feel the toll that his body is taking to give him this final burst of energy. He does not know what the white is, or where it will lead, all he knows is that there is a will inside of him to reach there that he cannot comprehend. All he can see is peace, comfort, rest, and an unknown sense of safety.

The Beast snarls. Its prey is close, but its refuge is closer. It lengthens its stride, snapping its jaws at the retreating feet, its claws falling just short of its mark.

The frustrated roar of the Beast, so close behind him, brings his heart into his throat. Safety is so close, so _close_. The path is now as narrow as two shoulder-widths, and the Beast still shortens the gap between them.

Narrower still, he's concentrating to keep from falling off. He can feel the Beasts hot breath against the back of his neck.

Even narrower, and it seems like the Beast is running on top of him.

The end of the path is so close now, just a few more meters-

-_Ahhh! _The Beasts raking claws have found their mark, tearing through the muscles along his back. But his will is iron-clad, he can't stop. He feels the hot breath coming at him and ducks, as a row of teeth flash past his head.

He's mere steps from the end of the path. The ground underneath him shudders as the beast behind him pounces forward, claws outstretched, jaw salivating.

He's there; at the edge. The gap is far between the path and his safety. A precise location, completely identical to the rest of the void, yet totally unique to him. It's his spot, his space in the void. His life.

He hurdles himself off the edge, no hesitation, no regrets. He feels the Beast's claws close around him, digging into his face. His spot is too far away, he's not going to make it. The Beast's jaws come down, ready to claim their prize.

Time seems to stop. He sees things differently now, like he's a spectator watches events flow by at a slow speed. He sees himself, mid-leap with the Beast hanging onto him, falling with him. He watches as the jaws come down, slowly, slowly, saliva floating off them into the air, the eyes of the Beast widening in triumph.

Then he sees the sunrise. He sees its first rays lance forth, and with a will of their own, pierce into the body of the Beast. He feels his consciousness slam back into his body, time speed up again. The weight on his back disappears; the pressure around his face vanishes.

The Spot comes closer. The last thing that he hears before he enters is a roar of such incredible intensity, of such frustration and rage that it seemed to shake the very ground of that place.

* * *

The baby had been silent and still, breathing, but unresponsive. They were worried. Had it worked? The Demon had disappeared, the Fourth lay dead, but had it worked?

The silence was suddenly broken as the babies cries started echoing throughout the room. They rushed forth, peering down into the crib, only to stare in stunned amazement.

The baby was covered in wounds, bite and claw marks, his little chest rising and falling rapidly, like he was out of breath. Then the seal wavered its way to the surface, and in the second before it took to anchor to the baby, all in the room felt a wave of malice radiate forth from it, gripping their hearts with icy fingers.

* * *

_Two weeks later_

The baby survived thanks to both his oddly high healing rate and the hard work of the medical team. The mysterious wounds that suddenly appeared on the newborn were a piece of information that would puzzle everyone for years to come – those with the clearance to know about them, that is.

The child suffered no permanent damage, but despite the best efforts of the medics, they were not able to remove all of the scars. More specifically, the claw marks on his cheeks, three on each side.

* * *

AN: Hey everyone, thanks for reading. i decided to add onto this badboy to clear a few things up. firstly, i wrote it when i was stacks sick, fever and whatnot, finishing it at like 4am, which explains the trippiness of it. secondly, for those of you who are a bit confused:

the story i wrote takes place in the moments that the Kyuubi was sealed. Its to express that it wasn't a simple progress, that Naruto had to "fight" for his life, and to contain the demon. the 'space/spot' represents his life, and the previous part was the kind of struggle to earn the right to be the container for the demon. Cue the 'fighter from birth, never give up!' quotes now, blah blah. the lights at the end are a bit weird, i like to think of them as yondaime's support or something, it's a bit vague. feel free to write about how you interpret that bit.

Also, his age isn't really important, its more like his 'spirit' is running.

cheers, have fun.


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